


It's Just Simple Maths

by fanpirex (Kingsy)



Series: Tales of a Teenage Witch [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Arithmancy, Canon Relationships, F/M, Onesided Crush, Professor Remus, Romance, Student Hermione, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3147515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kingsy/pseuds/fanpirex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a few Arithmancy calculations, Hermione starts to fancy her DADA professor.</p><p>To see the banner for this ficlet, go <a href="http://fpxmemories.tumblr.com/post/98267097991">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Just Simple Maths

**Author's Note:**

> For an idea of how Arithmancy works, I wrote a post about it [here](http://fpxpensieve.tumblr.com/post/98308603478/an-introduction-to-arithmancy).

It started when she was completing her Arithmancy homework.

As they had only just started the course and needed to be introduced slowly to its complex nature, Professor Sinistra had given the class a relatively easy assignment. Hermione simply needed to figure out the character number for ten different people.

Her first chosen individuals were herself and her parents. She found that she was a four, which suited her perfectly, and that her mother and father were fives. She smiled; obviously her parents belonged together.

Next she used Harry and Ron, leading to them both getting twos, so clearly that explained their instant friendship. Glancing up, she noticed Neville was also in the Common Room, tending to his latest plant. She decided to do his character number next, finding that he was a five, like her parents.

Then, out of curiosity, she did Fred and George, interested in how twins would correlate. They got six and three respectively, which made sense; together they made nine, which (like them) was a force to be reckoned with.

She studied her list of names and equations. She needed two more people.

Pursing her lips, she used Professor Dumbledore’s name and wasn’t shocked to find that he was a one. The headmaster was clearly a leader; she should have known really.

And then, when no other names sprang to mind, she thought back to earlier that day and eventually decided upon her new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

He’d been wonderful; the best professor to be appointed for the post yet. She was glad they would finally be taught DADA properly. Having observed him closely during the lesson, she considered him kind and fair to all students, with a natural flair for teaching.

He was a four.

This didn’t particularly surprise her, she found, but she was intrigued to see that he shared her own character number.

The next morning at breakfast, she studied him from the Gryffindor table. And though she hadn’t intended to, she realised that he had a strange appeal. For the next few weeks, she continued to watch him.

It took a mere month for her to understand that she was attracted to him.

It took her another to note that he grew sick around the full moon.

* * *

One morning, she purposefully arrived for Defence Against the Dark Arts early. No other students had left breakfast yet, including Ron and Harry who had hardly noticed her leaving in their half-asleep states.

Professor Lupin was standing beside his desk, rummaging through a pile of parchment.

“Ah, Miss Granger,” he smiled upon seeing her, “you’re rather early.”

His voice was a lovely baritone; it sunk into her skin and surrounded her warmly much like her bed covers at home. She sat at the front of the classroom and pulled out her textbook.

“I wanted to reread a few chapters before class,” she explained—it was such a convincing lie that he said no more and in fact even hummed, as if remarking that he should have known.

She took the chance to stare at him inconspicuously. Up close now, she could make out tiny scars littering his face, neck and hands. They criss-crossed in some places or dragged diagonally in others, some deeper and more puckered, most shiny and just a tone lighter than his flesh colour.

His methodical movements fascinated her. Every move he made was slow and deliberate, every stroke of his long fingers on the parchment considered, and though he took no notice of his scars, he didn’t exude any particular confident arrogance.

After shuffling through another pile of work, he rested his hip against the desk and looked at her kindly. Luckily she had seen his intentions and put her head down in time to appear engrossed with reading.

“Are you enjoying your lessons?” he inquired.

She glanced up, inwardly pleased that he had started a conversation, and nodded. “The material is harder than last year, and I already missed so many classes because of the basilisk attacks. It was dreadful.” As soon as she said that, she wondered if he’d think badly of her for liking school, as everyone in her year did.

But he only nodded and she decided that the approving glint of kinship in his caramel eyes proved that he was indeed a four.

“Yes, I heard you were one of the students petrified. No lasting effects, I hope,” he was concerned. She knew he meant any lasting mental trauma.

“No, I’m fine,” she smiled.

“Well, that’s good to hear. If you do though,” he added, “I’m always available to help.”

She resisted the urge to swoon at his thoughtfulness, fearing that she would look too much like she did last year with Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Lupin likely wouldn’t appreciate it.

The two spoke about the topics he would be teaching today and she tried not to look disappointed when the rest of the class came bumbling in. That night she had a dream wherein he had invited her into his office to chat about her experience with the Basilisk. It had somehow transitioned into him sitting very close beside her with his large hand on her knee, his thumb stroking the skin where her skirt had rose up.

Her dream-self then leaned with uncharacteristic forwardness and kissed his soft lips, her neck stretched because he was so much taller than her meagre height.

In the morning, she had awoken with gasping breaths and a thumping heart. The imagined memory of his hands on her waist and hers in his hair made her jittery for the day.

* * *

The whole of Third Year carried on with similar incidences. Having a Time Turner was a great responsibility too, and she couldn’t resist using it a few times simply to catch Professor Lupin on his own.

She figured out very early on about his affliction. Afterwards, she noted down his behaviour and decided that werewolves were not unlike humans; some were bad and some were good. It just so happened that they were more dangerous on a full moon.

She wondered if he took Wolfsbane Potion, which she knew to be a very difficult to get a hold of, but then thought that he must take it. As a teacher, he would transform around hundreds of children every month and was responsible for their wellbeing.

The whole occurrence with Sirius Black appearing out of nowhere, Scabbers actually being Peter Pettigrew, and Professor Lupin changing without having taken Wolfsbane Potion certainly unsettled her. She had felt so very betrayed when she’d assumed that he was letting a mass murderer into the castle.

When the night was over and word of his resignation spread, she felt awful for thinking badly of him. She had no chance to speak with him though; he left the school before she could.

It was a long time before she saw him again, though she waited patiently with a heavy heart. The summer before Fifth Year, when she was sent to 12 Grimmauld Place, was full of secret glances at the former professor.

He had smiled at her very warmly when she arrived and she had blushed until Ron dragged her upstairs to play wizards’ chess. At dinner that night, she was seated beside Remus (as he told her continuously to call him) and she squirmed just a little when her leg accidentally brushed against his beneath the table.

* * *

Meeting Nymphadora Tonks was interesting. She was wonderfully bubbly, though a downright klutz. But Hermione was disheartened upon noticing the multiple times that the Metamorphmagus looked over to Remus. Though he seemed unaware, it was clear she fancied him.

Later that night, Hermione went through her trusty Arithmancy calculations. Tonks, as she liked to be called, was a seven.

A seven and a four; they didn’t particularly work well together, she supposed. Unless one believed in the phrase ‘opposites attract’, which she did not. So, with a lighter heart, she fell asleep.

But then just a year later, after Dumbledore’s flight off of the Astronomy Tower and the subsequent battle with Death Eaters, Tonks declared her love for the werewolf who returned the sentiments.

Hermione was thankful her friends didn’t ask why she was so quiet after that. After all, the night had been terrible for everyone with their beloved headmaster’s death.

When she climbed into bed just hours later, she wondered whether personality numbers really mattered. She knew several couples whose numbers did not match though they seemed perfect together.

And for the first time, she doubted the legitimacy of her favourite subject.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I've recently started a Tumblr for news and ideas about all of my stories, existing and yet-to-be-written. **Feedback would be fantastic!** So if you want to interact with me more and have input on future decisions regarding my stories then head over to [www.fanpirex.tumblr.com](www.fanpirex.tumblr.com).
> 
> I look forward to possibly hearing from any of you! There's a lot of story-related thoughts that go through my head and loads of partially written stories still unpublished that I've never mentioned to you guys before, but I'd like to be more open about it all :]
> 
> Thank you for reading my rambles, even if you don't wanna join in, and have a brilliant day!


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